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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032395">Over Gronder Fields We Go</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreev/pseuds/skreev'>skreev</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, F/M, Post-Timeskip Battle at Gronder Field (Fire Emblem), Turncoat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:21:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,344</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29032395</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/skreev/pseuds/skreev</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Felix and Bernadetta meet at Gronder Field, this time as enemies. Does Bernadetta have what it takes to kill her former friend?</p><p>Written for Felix Rarepair Week, Day 4: Turncoat/Pining</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Bernadetta von Varley</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Felix Rarepair Week 2021</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Over Gronder Fields We Go</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>All across Gronder Field, war reared its ugly head, and the Bread Basket of Adrestia soaked its wheat in blood. Three armies met in fire and steel. </p><p>And Bernadetta had to kill those who she had once considered friends.</p><p>She could do this. She. Could. Do. <em>This</em>.</p><p>Part of her wished they could talk out matters. That Dimitri and Edelgard and Claude could all remember how they were once friends. Another part wanted to hightail it out of here and escape back to her room in Enbarr.</p><p>No, she was done with hiding. This was war. She could do this. She would do this.</p><p>Her arrows slung into the open air. When her shots landed in flesh, she ignored the death groans and tried not to imagine that the face of a former ally hid beneath their helm. When brawlers came mashing their iron fists or warriors swung their axes, Bernadetta practiced her best skill—running away.</p><p>A copse of trees provided shelter from the spear she hoped did not belong to Sylvain. Darting between trees, Bernadetta fled the heat of the battlefield. Branches and thorns scraped against her legs. The horses could not follow so deep into the woods, and lithe little Bernie Bear could easily hide within the brush.</p><p>Bernadetta slunk down against a tree to catch her breath. Her lungs burned with exertion. Goddess, she hated this feeling.</p><p>For a moment, all she could hear was the rapid huff of her own breath, but something else caught her ear—or rather, someone else. Someone else’s breath. Ragged. Wheezing. Pained.</p><p> Bernadetta silently reached for her bow. Hubert’s droll advice echoed in her head: the death throes of an injured stag is sometimes more dangerous than the nip of a healthy wolf.</p><p>Bernadetta nocked her arrow, pulling it back with care so as to not make a sound. She stepped around the brush, eyes roving for signs of an enemy.</p><p>“Ungh.”</p><p>There it was again. Bernadetta’s head swiveled. A boot poked out from behind a tree.</p><p><em>Steel yourself</em>, Bernadetta repeated to herself, a well-worn mantra that had begun to lose its effect the longer the war stretched on. <em>You have the advantage. You can—</em></p><p>Her eyes widened. She nearly lost her grip on the bow.</p><p>“Felix!”</p><p>Felix’s back bent against a tree trunk, his armor peeled off to allow him to reach a weeping gash stretched across his abdomen. The cut was deep. Perspiration slicked his brow as a shaky hand tried to pour a vulnerary over the wound.</p><p>“Bern..adetta?” His voice sounded forced, the syllables expelled between raspy breaths.</p><p>Bernadetta cast aside her bow. “Here, let me help you.” The vulnerary was nearly empty. It smelled sour, like milk gone bad—a sure sign that it was had lost its magical potency.</p><p>Bernadetta uncorked a fresh concoction from her belt, but as she leaned forward to tend to his wound, Felix placed a hand on hers.</p><p> “Stop. Why are you doing this? We’re enemies.”</p><p>“You’ll die if I leave you like this.”</p><p>“You should kill me. You have the advantage.”</p><p>She couldn’t do this after all.</p><p>“We were friends,” she cracked.</p><p>“Well, we’re not anymore,” Felix said. “If you do this, I’ll have to kill you, so you don’t go off and slaughter more of my men.”</p><p>Bernadetta swallowed hard. Her whole body trembled.</p><p>“O-okay.” And she began to pour the concoction over his wound.</p><p>Felix hissed in pain as the potion worked its magic. His grip on her wrist tightened as he bit back the pain of skin and muscle reknitting itself in rapid succession. Bernadetta let him lean on her for support.</p><p>“You’re still in a very bad way,” she said after a few minutes. “You should get off the battlefield. Find a healer.”</p><p>“No. I have to fight.”</p><p>“Why?” Bernadetta asked. “Where is the Felix that would never throw his life away? Where is the Felix that hated the so-called boar prince?”</p><p>“Strong words from a girl who refused to leave her bedroom for class, much less for battle.”</p><p>A sharp shock of shame jolted Bernadetta. She had changed, she wanted to tell him, but what was the point? Of course, he had changed too. Yet she lacked the resolve to fight him. He looked like her old Felix, scowling and determined. Scolding her for her lack of resolve the way he used to chastise her for being too shy.</p><p>He still leaned against her. He still grasped her hand.</p><p>“You can kill me now,” she said in a small voice.</p><p>“Bernadetta.” He said her name like it was a prayer. “Don’t do this.”</p><p>“I’m not made for war,” she said. “I’m sick of being scared. I’m sick of killing people. I just want to live a life of peace. You’re more suited for this world than I am.”</p><p>She could not bear to look at him. Any second now, she would feel the sting of a blade in her gut, and it would be over.</p><p>“Fuck!” Felix said instead. “You are supposed to fight a war to protect the people you love, not kill them.”</p><p>“What…what are you saying?”</p><p>“Run away, Bernadetta. I’ll come find you afterwards. Or you could join us.”</p><p>“Join you? You mean Faerghus? Dimitri is losing this war, Felix. If I join his side, I’ll still have to watch my friends die. And if you die…”</p><p>“That’s war, Bernadetta. You have to fight for what you believe in. Do you really believe in Edelgard’s cause?”</p><p>Bernadetta thought of her father and his false piety. She thought of the church lessons beat into her as a child. She understood the motivations behind this war, but did she believe in it? That was too complex a question for her to untangle in the midst of battle.</p><p>“I know better than anyone how bad the church is. And you? Do you really believe in Dimitri?”</p><p>Felix did not respond.</p><p>“Let’s face this,” Bernadetta said. “This war is not ours. Why are we here? Why don’t we both just leave?”</p><p> Felix shook his head. “I am not a coward.”</p><p>“Is it cowardly to refuse to fight in a war you do not believe in? Sometimes I think…I am afraid to leave. That I am only here because of who my parents are and of where I was born.”</p><p>Felix’s eyes set on a distant object. His jaw clenched.</p><p>Suddenly, a crash of broken twigs erupted from the edge of the copse. Shadows moved between the trees at the mouth of the woods. <em>More soldiers.</em></p><p>“Get your bow,” Felix hissed. When he stood, he gasped in pain and nearly buckled over.</p><p>“You’re still healing—”</p><p>“Sh—” Felix unsheathed his sword, albeit with difficulty. “They’re from the Alliance.”</p><p>Bernadetta nodded and slipped an arrow out from her quiver.</p><p>“You cannot fight like this,” she said. “Get away. I’ll handle them.”</p><p>“I’m not leaving you.”</p><p>“We’re enemies, right?”</p><p>Felix squeezed her hand again—for the last time. “No, we’re not.”</p><p>Bernadetta could not handle it. Not now. She needed to be strong. “Go. Before it is too late. I’ll draw them away.”</p><p>“There are too many of them.”</p><p>More foot soldiers weaved through the trees, hunting for stragglers. Escaping was Bernadetta’s strongest skill. This was her moment.</p><p>“I can run. I can escape. I’m really good at it in fact. You hide and wait for them to leave.”</p><p>“Bernadetta—” he grabbed her arm, “If we survive, meet at the barn across the river north of the field.” She had never heard him like this—desperate and begging. “We’ll run away.”</p><p>“Felix—”</p><p>He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. “Now go.”</p><p>“If we survive,” Bernadetta said as she hopped through the undergrowth. The soldiers fanned out between the trees, gripping lances and swords. <em>If we survive,</em> she thought, nocking her arrow to distract the ever-growing crowd of soldiers. Her arrow struck the trunk of the tree with a vibrating thud. Armor creaked as heads turned towards her.</p><p>The Alliance soldiers shouted. Bernadetta turned and ran through the woods.</p><p>
  <em>If.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey, look guys, I finally learned how to write angst.</p><p>Come yell at me about it on <a href="https://twitter.com/skreev1"> Twitter.</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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